


Secrets And Promises

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Baby allison - Freeform, But Victoria knows and is cool with it, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, M/M, Pining, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Pre-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: Once in a while, Chris rents a motel room and meets with Peter. They don't talk about it. Things change when Chris is about to be a father and when tragedy strikes.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Secrets And Promises

Chris slips into his jacket. The leather is cool and smooth on his skin. He’s probably not going to need it. It’s early summer and the nights are mild while the days border on being too warm to feel comfortable, but he likes the weight of the jacket, likes to bury his hands into the pockets, like back in the past. Back in the past, when he left his father's house with the same intention as he leaves his and Victoria’s today. 

“I’m going to drink some beers with Sam,” Chris says calmly, reaching for the keys. The lie comes over his lips smoothly. Because he doesn’t really need it. Because Victoria knows. Not everything, but enough.   
  
She knows there’s no Sam. She knows there won’t be any beers. She knows what he's going to do and she nods anyway, smiles anyway, tells him to have fun anyway, while her eyes don't lift from the page of the book she's reading. 

As soon as he leaves the house, Chris feels lighter. He can breathe freer. He should feel guilty. He should be remorseful. He isn’t. 

Chris knows he’s not a good man. With Victoria, he doesn’t have to be. What they have is not love. It is something else, something forged in the secretive society they both grew up in. They were married to each other because it was a good fit, because it settled a helpful connection between two clans of hunters. Because the Argents needed a woman to lead. And it isn’t love what they have, but it still is something incredibly strong. It’s respect and mutual understanding. They know each other inside out. They have each other’s back, no matter if it's a supernatural being or Chris' own family who dares to stand in their path. They are a unit. But it isn’t love. 

It isn’t what Chris feels when he’s with Peter. 

When he’s with Peter, he feels whole in a way that almost scares him. 

Sometimes, he imagines. He imagines he would have done what they were fantasizing about so many years ago. Imagines, they would have stolen a car and drove away. Just away, until there were enough miles between them and Beacon Hills. It was a stupid romantic teenager vision. Peter would have never left his family, not with the role he plays in his pack. The role of the protector. And Chris … Chris wasn’t brave enough to leave his father’s house. He knows Gerard. Better than most people. He knows what he’s capable of. They couldn’t leave, so they had to keep what they had a secret.  
  
A secret almost always comes to light. Or it destroys too much and is replaced by something less demanding. In their case, it was both. Chris’ family became too suspicious. Gerard decided to leave Beacon Hills. There were bigger cities with more supernaturals who did more that justified killing them than the Hales. 

A part of Chris was relieved, when he sat in the car and saw Beacon Hills disappearing behind him. The other part was ashamed and felt torn apart.  
  
Something has always been pulling him back … And there he is years after he left, back in Beacon Hills. Back with the secrets.  
  
Once in a while, he rents a motel room. He meets up with Peter and they fuck. It’s as simple as that. 

It’s been going on for quite a while. But now, things have changed. This is the last time, Chris thinks and walks the well-known path to the motel. This is the last time. It has to be. 

Peter is leaning with his back against a wall, a bottle in his hand. He takes a sip, his head tilting back when he swallows, revealing the elegant arch of his neck. Chris’ mouth starts to feel a bit dry. The anticipation makes his skin prickle. Peter looks at him and smirks. Chris still startles a bit at the sight, because they’re not teenagers anymore, they look so different, but the smirk on Peter’s face is the same as it was years ago, when they first met in school, when Chris introduced himself to the class, when he said the name Argent and Peter perked up. 

One look into Peter’s eyes is enough to tell Chris he used wolfsbane to get drunk. That’s just one of the many things they discovered together, when they were painfully young and too careless. When Peter was watching Chris getting tipsy from cheap beer and told him, “I want to know. I want to know how you feel.”  
  
They did it for fun. They did it to know if sex feels different when you’re drunk.  
  
Now, they drink to forget and lose unwanted emotions for at least a while.

Peter offers him the bottle, but Chris shakes his head. They walk into the motel and to their room. It almost feels like routine. 

There’s not much talking. They are all over each other as soon as Chris closed the door behind them. Their mouths collide and the clink of teeth is as sudden as it’s gloriously painful. Peter tastes like cigarettes and liquor. 

When Peter pushes, Chris pushes back. Peter smirks when he stumbles backwards. The werewolf could lift Chris off the ground with one hand if he wanted. But he doesn’t. For some reason Peter likes to be manhandled and pushed around and fucked by someone who knows how to kill his kind in at least 50 different ways. Every other werewolf around here would be shocked, disgusted and scandalized - and Peter loves that. Chris knows it. He thinks of Gerard and what he would say to this, and a part of him laughs smugly.  
  
It’s rough today. Rougher than usual. 

The force of Chris’ thrusts make Peter slip backwards, his head hitting the headboard with dull thuds. Chris grabs Peter’s hips hard enough to leave bruises - which fade slower today, which tells Chris how much of the special wolfsbane Peter has used - and pulls him back, his cock sinking in even deeper. Peter moans and tilts his head back as far as it goes, baring his throat and Chris takes the invitation, leaving bites and bruises, until Peter’s neck is a vivid picture of his submission.  
  
It’s over too fast. Like always, Chris tries to hold on and fails when Peter’s orgasm makes him clench around his cock. He comes with a shout, riding the waves of blinding pleasure out, his hips stuttering and his cock twitching inside Peter until it's spent and he feels boneless, slumping on Peter and panting into the crook of his neck. 

They’re sticky and breathless. The air in the room is heady. 

There’s still no talking.  
  
Chris grunts when Peter starts to bite him. Too sharp teeth dig into the skin of his neck, feeling like pin pricks. A bite so hard, it breaks the skin makes Chris flinch. “Don’t be so rough,” he hisses. “There can’t be any marks.”  
  
He wants to take the words back the moment Peter frowns and backs away. The wolf sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the window sill. The window is tilted. Outside, the crickets are chirping too loudly.

Chris stares at the arch of Peter's naked back. A part of him thinks that they deserve better. Better than cheap motel rooms. He realizes he has never asked Peter what he thinks about this. They talk so little nowadays. In the past, they always had something to say.

Peter blows the smoke of the cigarette out of the window. He’s still frowning. His eyes are distant. Chris almost asks what he’s thinking about, but then, it’s Peter who talks first, who unexpectedly opens up. “Talia is trying to get me married, you know? Just like Gerard did with you. She said a family, some children, would ground me. Make me less … volatile.” He scowls. “She’s just worried about her damn reputation. She thinks I’ll ruin it.” 

Chris’ stomach sinks a bit. It’s strange that Peter’s family is not that different from his when it comes to certain things. 

Peter continues talking, his frown deepening. “She’s not a wolf. She’s a coyote. Her name is Corinne. She’s actually a bit like your Victoria. Sharp, intelligent, somewhat malicious, when she wants to be. It could be worse. But still … I know that it’s just about power, just about allies and Talia’s stupid reputation, so …” He makes a vague gesture. Chris knows what he isn’t saying. Peter hates to be controlled, to be told what to do and to be held back like a dog on a leash. Talia does all of this regularly. Not necessarily because she wants to be cruel, but because she had to be Alpha too early and because Peter has always been too young for her, has always been a pup in her eyes. A rebellious erratic pup she has to bring in line.

Peter is silent now. He’s looking out the window thoughtfully, snipping the cigarette end out.

Chris decides it’s his time to share now that they talk. “Vic is pregnant.” 

There’s a pause. Then: “Congratulations.” The word sounds tired and like it leaves a bitter taste in Peter’s mouth. 

“It’s a girl. Allison.” _Ally._ Chris likes the name. He likes to think about tiny fingers curled around his bigger ones. She’s not even here yet, and she already makes his chest warm up. 

Peter looks at him and maybe he can smell the hint of excitement in the air, because he grimaces. “Well. At least one of us is able to fulfill his family’s wishes,” he mumbles and his words … they cut into Chris. Deep. 

“Don’t be like this. You were the one who couldn’t leave. I left Beacon Hills to protect you and your pack from my own family,” he says. 

Peter’s eyes bore into his. “Well, you came back. Why? For this? For the occasional fuck?” He sounds matter of factly. Chris hates it. And he hates, that he doesn’t really have an answer. “We can’t do this anymore,” he says instead, and Peter nods. He doesn’t look surprised. 

Silence. Again.

“How long until she’s there?” Peter asks eventually.

“Five months,” Chris murmurs. He feels anxious all of a sudden. He knows the feeling. It’s the fear of not being enough, the fear of not being able to be a good father, because … Well, because he grew up in a household, where violence, insults and beatings disguised as necessary lessons were normal.

“You’ll be a good father,” Peter suddenly says. As if he read Chris’ thoughts. Chris’ throat feels a little bit tighter. He reaches out and lays his hand on Peter’s back, between his shoulder blades. Peter tenses a bit, but he doesn’t move away. 

“I want you to meet her,” Chris says.  
  
Peter looks at him over his shoulder, his eyes widened in surprise. But he nods timidly. “Okay.” Chris wonders if Peter thought he would just be kicked out of Chris' life. Maybe. Chris abandoned him before, not even leaving a message behind. He really is not a good man.

They don’t meet at the motel again. There are a few phone calls, a few messages, one occasion where they stumble into each other in the supermarket. Nothing more. Chris tries to focus on his family, and he knows Peter is doing the same.  
  
This is just how reality works for them. Until it shatters. 

Until the Hale house is in flames. The fire lights up the night sky and while it rages, while it consumes everything in its path, while the roar of the flames fades out every scream for help, Chris is sleeping. The vibrations of his phone on the nightstand wake him up. He listens and a part of him is sure, this is just a nightmare. It isn’t real that a hunter wakes him up in the middle of the night, to tell him that the Hales are dead, burned in the basement of their house, all dead but one. All dead but Peter. It isn’t real. Can’t be.

Chris ends the call, his face stoic and his mind blank. He goes back to sleep.  
  
In the morning, he hears it in the news. It is real. Vic lays a hand on his shoulder when he bends over and vomits on the floor. She helps him clean up and tells him to drink a glass of water, in her crisp controlled voice. Chris is grateful for her words and her touch. They are grounding him. 

The next time Chris sees Peter, the wolf is in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines keeping him alive, half his body covered in bandages, and the wrongness of it all makes Chris’ legs feel weak. He drops on an uncomfortable plastic chair and stares at Peter’s face behind the oxygen mask, not able to form a coherent thought. His heart feels like it’s torn apart. He reaches out, takes Peter’s hand, and tells him he’s sorry. For everything and nothing. 

They blame it on electronic malfunctioning and Chris wants to go punch someone. He knows what they can’t know. No one tried to get out of the house because no one could. Because the arsonist knew what they were doing, the arsonist was a hunter. And Chris is on the verge of investigating. He’s on the verge of screaming into his father’s face for calling the fire a success, a well-needed reminder that the town belongs to the humans, not the monsters. He’s so angry all the time.  
  
But then Allison is born and she’s Chris’ little star, his angel.  
  
Her tiny fingers curl around his thumb when he holds her for the first time, and Chris heart softens. He knows he’s going to protect her with his life. He knows he has to be a good man for her. Knows she’s not going to grow up like him. She isn’t going to grow up with stories about monsters and the knowledge she’s going to be the one killing them as soon as she’s old enough to hold a knife. No. 

He brings Ally to Peter, sits on the chair with her. He rocks Ally gently and smiles at Peter’s still face. The oxygen mask and most of the machines are gone. Peter is stable and although he’s comatose now, the doctors call him a medical miracle. Chris knows what it really is. He also knows that Peter isn’t going to wake up anytime soon, because of the missing pack bonds. He’s learned so much about wolves, so much his father wouldn’t tell him. 

And Chris is not a wolf, but he and Peter have a connection; have had it for so long now, and maybe it helps. Maybe.  
  
He sings Ally songs and tells her stories at Peter’s bedside. He’s there. It’s the least he can do. 

Although reality has been trying to make them walk away from each other, there’s still the connection between them. There still are the memories … Of them, watching a movie and throwing popcorn each other. Them, bickering and suddenly kissing instead. Them, making love to each other in the forest, being wild and so rebellious it made them crazy with arousal. 

Chris won’t just forget. And once Peter wakes up, they’re going to find out who’s responsible for this. He promises, while Ally sleeps with her little face pressed into the crook of his neck, while he sees one of Peter’s fingers twitch. Chris may not be a good man, but he keeps his promises. Always. 

**Author's Note:**

> Look how fast I can make a smut prompt into something sad and dark 😅🙈


End file.
